The misfortune (good fortune?) of a stress fracture
Photo by Daniel Ali on Unsplash
Monday, October 31, 2022 started out as a glorious clergy Sabbath, as I headed out for my usual 4-mile walk with our younger dog, Maggie. Before we made it back home, I realized that my ankle was bothering me. I did a few flexing exercises after I came in, and shrugged off my concerns.
But by the time I had run to the grocery store and the pet food store, I was in pain.
Within a week, what started as minor pain had intensified to the point that I was unable to bear weight on the ankle, and I found myself in a wheelchair, for the first time in my life.
The first trip to the orthopedist yielded no answers: No fracture appeared on the X-ray. An ultrasound showed no blood clot or other concern. I was given a steroid pack, and told to give the ankle a rest for a few days.
That day was the beginning of a two-month (and counting) journey.
It took a few weeks (and more than one X-ray, an MRI and a CT scan…) for the orthopedist to diagnose the “problem” as a stress fracture. In the meantime, I’d been navigating around our church in a wheelchair, and eventually, on a knee scooter, with an orthopedic boot.
And I learned a few things: Our campus is very accessible – minimal steps, ramps at all of our entrances, and designated parking for persons with hangtags. But seeing our campus from the vantage point of a wheelchair was eye-opening. Restrooms posed a particular problem: Although I was able to hobble out of the wheelchair at the restroom door, I learned quickly that my attempts to navigate entry in the wheelchair were nearly futile. There were no automatic doors, and the entry doors were heavy enough to be very tough to manage from the seat of the wheelchair.
That one issue made me wonder about a few other things, as well – like whether we actually had sufficient accessible parking, and whether our ushers and greeters would always be on the ready to assist persons arriving on Sunday mornings who couldn’t open the heavy entry doors. A member of our parish family who uses a motorized scooter asked me about serving as a lector – and while we easily arranged for her to do so, I realized we’d not made a point of letting our parish family know that everyone was welcome in all of our ministries, all of the time.
So, from the vantage point of the wheelchair, I learned a few lessons that I hope will be helpful to others. The lessons start with a full assessment of a church campus, and an open invitation to the congregation and persons who visit the campus regularly to offer ideas about how the campus can truly serve all of God’s people.
Where to begin?
Be intentional.
Let everyone in your church family know that the review of the campus is taking place, and invite feedback. Reach out intentionally to persons who rely on wheelchairs, scooters, walkers, canes and other mobility assistance devices (or whose family members rely on such devices) to invite them to be part of the conversation.
Start with a parking-lot view.
Do you have adequate designated parking for persons with hangtags? (Ask someone to walk through the parking lot on a Sunday morning to see if anyone who has a hangtag has had to park in a space not designated for hangtag parking.)
Should thought be given to even more designated parking for persons who may not have hangtags but rely on mobility assistance devices, temporarily or permanently?
Should thought be given to designated parking for expectant mothers or families with newborn infants?
From the parking lot, head to the doors.
Is there signage to identify the best accessible entrance? Is designated accessible parking closest to the best accessible entrance? Are there any automatic entry doors? Before worship, ushers and greeters can help tremendously by watching for persons who need help with heavy doors and opening those doors to assist with entry.
Stepping inside: How accessible are your interior spaces?
How accessible are your spaces? Is there a place for wheelchairs in your worship space? [If not, might a pew or some chairs be removed to allow space?]
Are spaces for learning and fellowship easily accessible? Is there signage to point to alternative accessible paths/elevators?
Don’t forget conveniences.
Keep an extra wheelchair, walker or steady cane on-hand and readily accessible to ushers or greeters should an unexpected need arise (Someone might realize, upon arrival, that a walker or cane was left at home accidentally, or experience some uncertainty in navigating the space.).
How accessible are your restrooms – really?
Try entering your restrooms in a wheelchair, and invite others who don’t rely on a wheelchair to try. Would someone who is unable to stand and climb out of the wheelchair to enter the restroom be able to enter easily? Are there any furniture items that need to be removed in order for a person in a wheelchair or with a walker to enter and navigate easily?
If one restroom is better suited for a person in a wheelchair, might there be a sign to help persons locate that restroom?
Is there a space for changing infant diapers that is accessible to a parent in a wheelchair?
Think outside the box.
We may perceive that older spaces which truly weren’t designed with accessibility in mind would require costly renovations that aren’t in our budgets. Instead, we’re called to think about how ministry can happen differently in areas that are accessible.
Is the choir situated in a space that requires the use of stairs? Perhaps a ramp could be constructed – but if a ramp really isn’t in your immediate plans, invite musicians to prayerfully consider other spaces from which the choir could offer its musical gifts – and communicate well so that church family members who might have felt excluded know that they are welcome.
Can differently-abled readers access spaces where scripture lessons are normally read? If not, consider having a hand-held microphone in an accessible location. Again, communicate well so that church family members who might have an interest and have felt excluded know that they are welcome.
Reassuring church family members that serving as an usher/greeter, lector, or assisting with Communion is very much possible for someone who relies on a mobility assistance device can open worlds of possibility – and help all of God’s people feel welcome to serve.
Renovations may not be beyond the realm of possibility.
Many churches that have some challenges to accessibility know that they don’t have the funds to embark upon thoughtful renovations to accomplish accessibility needs. But don’t rule out the possibility before doing a bit of exploration. Are grants or other funding available from your denomination, city, county or state? Invite a team to investigate funding possibilities. If funds may be available, invite proposals from build-design firms specializing in accessibility projects to help with some thoughtful planning, tackling the areas of greatest need first.
Think beyond mobility assistance.
Assistive listening systems (ALSs) can provide support for those who are experiencing hearing loss. Electronic magnifiers can provide support for those who are experiencing visual loss for reading Bibles, hymnals, or orders of service during worship. [Another idea: Have orders of service accessible online, and have links to hymnals or Bible browsers available so that persons experiencing visual losses can use their own devices (with which they are familiar and comfortable) to access and magnify those worship tools.]
Our houses of worship should be the places where all of God’s people feel welcome – and there’s no substitute for giving focused time and attention to considering just how welcoming our spaces are for all worshipers and guests. It’s a great way to start a new year!
